


The Nuances of a Wrathful Sky

by w_hope



Series: The Fic that Could Be [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Murderers, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Devoted!Varia, Don't copy to another site, Dying Will Flames (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Flame Harmonization (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Formation of Varia, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Loyal!Varia, Minor or Background Varia & Varia, Minor or Background Varia Arc, Nonbinary Mammon | Viper, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, The Craddle Affair Aftermath, Timoteo | Vongola Nono's A+ Parenting, Varia Quality (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Varia's Backgrounds, Varia's Questionnable Love Language, Xanxus's Questionnable Love Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w_hope/pseuds/w_hope
Summary: Xanxus doesn’t want, nor looks for, and definitely doesn’tneedGuardians. His Guardians find him all the same when he needs them the most (not like he’ll ever admit that aloud), and then just never leave.
Relationships: Varia & Xanxus (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Series: The Fic that Could Be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800604
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	1. The Requiem Rain

Squalo wasn't predestined to be a swordsman, nor the way of the sword called him or chose him or any of that shit.

Squalo _decided_ he wanted to wield a sword. He wanted to spill the blood of his enemies, to stain his weapon and clothes with it, wanted to watch the pain and struggle and despair on their face.

Squalo wanted to be close enough to them to not miss the moment they'd realize he was the death of them, but far enough away so they couldn't retaliate easily.

 _He_ chose the sword and worked to make it an extension of his arm, of his whole body; worked to make it so no other weapons would ever feel so right in his hand.

Whiny Dino splutters and panics and is his usual pathetic self when he tells him he wants to travel the world to master his technique.

Squalo snatches him by the collar. There's worry and fear in his eyes of all things, as if Squalo can't take him on any day, any moment. "Voi, don't order me around you scum. I'll do whatever the hell I want."

"But Squalo—" There's a flickering determination in brown eyes, and Squalo considers letting it come to life fully. It's not often he succeeds to goad the clumsy Sky in a serious fight.

He gets Dino on his tip toes, tightens his grip on his collar, cutting off his breathing. "Don't insult me Cavallone, who do you think you're talking with?" A dangerous grin splits his face from ear to ear. "You're looking at the best swordsman of this generation."

* * *

The first thing Squalo learns on his journey is what defeat tastes like. It tastes like looming death, like unfulfilled cravings and a bleeding pride. This one defeat is tainted by mercy, which adds a sharp, sour taste of anger and disdain at the back of his tongue.

"Voi, what do you think you're doing? Kill me before I kill you."

"Why are you in such a hurry to die?" the swordmaster says. "I gave you the fight you wanted. I did not hold back either, merely matched my skills to yours. You survived. The way of the sword didn't let you down just yet."

"What kind of bullshit is that?" Squalo spits out. He doesn't live in a world so kind he'll be given second chances. Victory is living to see the next fight while defeat is death. There's no room for draws in Squalo's world. "Kill me before I kill you," he says again.

The swordmaster turns his back to him and walks away. Squalo crawls to his sword and stands back up.

The swordmaster goes down.

Squalo continues his journey, tackles on Italy first then Europe, goes to Africa and America, roams the streets of Asia and doesn't forget Australia. He challenges all the masters he can find, their refined styles clashing against Squalo's simple sword, which gets deadlier each time he leaves in his wake corpses he dragged down from their pedestal.

They call his first win against a swordmaster a fluke, call him a child who'll get burn by the fire he's playing with sooner than later. The second swordmaster he kills is deemed too sloppy, the third one too soft. The fourth one and all the others after him expect him, know better than to underestimate him, don't hide their killing intent from him.

Squalo gives back as good as he gets. Squalo is still the last one standing, and is quick to move on to his next prey.

It's particularly delightful to watch the so-called flawless, strongest and invincible style of the swordmaster and his two apprentices crumbles under his blows. There's no such thing as a flawless, strongest and invincible style. Squalo swears only by his sword but it's a truth he acknowledges. It's a truth he won't make the mistake to ever forget.

When the Varia tries to recruit him, he's known and respected as The Ravenous Shark who always finds himself where the blood smells the strongest, and never leaves without a new fresh layer of red trailing his steps.

* * *

Squalo goes to the Varia headquarters to refuse their offer and gets them off his back. As "independent" they may be they're still Vongola, and he's none-too keen to be ordered around.

A step in the mansion and all of his body tenses under the weight of Sky flames all over the place. The undercurrent of anger and violence, the sheer _threat_ of the flames behind their calm aspect isn't lost on him—it wouldn't be lost even on the dumbest of dumb fucks on this world.

It's not a display of power, Squalo knows right away. It's not a demand for submission either, nor the Sky offering himself up for eventual courtships.

This Sky just _doesn't care_ who his flames reach or who'd be suicidal enough to take it as a challenge. This Sky simply doesn't see the point to have his flames in a leash.

Squalo mercilessly reigns his Rain flames in lest they lash out blindly, lest they try and _submit_ to the Sky flames, or—god forbid—try and **_court_** them.

The Sky is a he, and the utter _fury_ in his eyes is like nothing else Squalo ever seen. His flames thrash and bite and _purr_ , eager to see if they can drown the man—the boy really, and how strange to think they're about the same age—before they get burn to ashes.

The Sky turns his gaze on him, and Squalo's bloodlust finds a Home at last, strong enough to never need from him any restraint.

(Squalo could have been claimed before, truly. But he has no need for a Sky who can encompass him only when he limits himself.)

He walks forward to meet his Sky, the most sure he has ever been in his life, without having _any_ idea on how it'll play out.

* * *

Tyr lies dead at his feet after two long days of battle.

Squalo looks down at his bloody sword and sees the embodiment of his ambitions. He looks at his bleeding, exhausted and painful body, and sees the proof of his resolve. Squalo looks at his lost left hand and sees the depth of his loyalty.

Squaring the accounts of the battle, washing away the blood spilled*—this is how The Requiem Rain is born.

(Squalo knows there's a lot of swordmasters he has still to meet and defeat, knows there's a lot of swordsmen out there who can challenge him on the title he covets he has to find and kill. He doesn't worry about them.

He's still young after all, there's no need to rush his pleasure.)

* * *

Xanxus tells him of his plan, and it's not a show of trust. It's sure as hell not a call for help. At most it's some kind of test, but either way Squalo doesn't care.

(Both of them are letting their hair grow, they're past needing any show of trust.)

"We'll need more people of our level for this."

"I don't need anyone."

"Voi," Squalo cries in indignation, "of course I can take on these Vongola scums on my own too! But you know better than me Nono isn't to be underestimated. You can't spare any strength on some underlings if you want to win."

Xanxus throws his whiskey at him, but he doesn't disagree.

In a near future and the years to come, when Squalo will have the urge to stab to death or cut the others useless Varia officers heads off, he'd stop and remember just who he has to thank for that.

It won't stop him from trying. If anything, it'll make him try harder.

* * *

Someone sold them out, Squalo has no doubt about it. He looks forward to the fight to decide who'll be the one to kill the traitor, but he knows Xanxus won't let this particular kill in anyone else hands.

They successfully make their way through the mansion anyway, taking full advantage of Vongola's hesitation and confusion when they realize they're fighting their own.

Vongola Nono is a monster on his own right because of course he is. They land some blows, make for a decent challenge, but Squalo isn't fooled. Vongola Nono isn't even fighting with his all, doesn't bother to show them this bare minimum of respect.

When both of them think he's out cold, words are spoken he could never have imagined, and everything about Xanxus suddenly makes _so much more sense_. Did Vongola actually expected any other outcome? How delusional of them.

The ice caught Xanxus in his peak of fury, his face all harsh features, his eyes hateful and unforgiving, his hand outstretched in what was meant to be a killing blow.

The ice is so incredibly cold against his palm it's easy to forget it's not Dying Will Flames; the ice seeps through skin and bones and makes his flames recoil in such a way it can be nothing else but Dying Will Flames.

Squalo can't reach back to his Sky.

"You're one pathetic man, old man."

But what to say of him then? About how useless he was in his Sky's hour of need, how useless he is still now, to not be able to carve a new path for them towards their goal.

Pathetic doesn't even begin to cover it, Squalo doesn't hold himself to such low standards.

"Stop the attack Squalo," the old man says, sounding so much like the understanding and saddened grandfather he likes to pretend he is, Squalo thinks maybe he really forgot the cold-blooded, ruthless ruler he truly is. "Call back your men. You lost, there's no need for anymore blood to spill."

"Do you think this is over? Do you think this will stop him? That your ice froze even his ambitions, his Will?"

Xanxus is still alive, as distant and barely there anymore his bond feels. This doesn't have to be the end. Levi is Raging as they're talking, and Bel's bond took on a single-minded focus different from his childish glee from before.

But this isn't what Squalo is asking.

"It's over," the old man only says.

Squalo slams his fist against the ice, points his broken sword at him. "Voi, you foolish old man," he roars, but his voice lowers in an even tone then. "This is only the beginning, can't you even guess that?" Xanxus is still alive, and if the old man didn't kill him now he won't kill him later. It's his mistake, maybe the last he'll ever make. "Xanxus will be back, and when he does we'll be there. We'll be ready."

Squalo trusts the man to not be senile enough he doesn't take his words as the threat they are.

* * *

Squalo learns that day defeat and failure aren't the same thing, don't sink their claws in the soul at the same depth. He learns how easy one is to overcome and forgive, and is too prideful and loyal to let the other be the same.

"The day will surely come when you'll be thankful you made me your ally," Squalo had say to him.

He thinks about those words a lot when dealing with the fallout of their failed Coup. Thinks about how they're there to deal with it while Xanxus is restrained in a prison made of ice.

They're both still alive, he says to himself when his own words haunt him. Others days will come both of them will be able to share and enjoy. He still can make good of his promise—he will.

* * *

Eight years later he is sent on a hunt to retrieve the rings his Boss needs to make his ambition a reality.

Squalo's hair reaches his waist, a reminder of what he stands for and _who_ he stands with for all the world to see. Xanxus's hair doesn't, and it's a reminder his resolve and strength failed him once.

He won't fail this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i mean _technically_ they didn't fail, it's just the ring who had to fuck them over  
> \- i just love the idea that it's Dino who come up with Squalo's titles. Part because he is legitimately impressed, part because he knows Squalo will come with over the top ridiculous titles à là Bakugo if he's left alone  
> \- *"The day will surely come when you’ll be thankful you made me your ally" i directly quoted amano akira there
> 
> I hope you liked it. Any and all review are appreciated. Thank you for reading!
> 
> w_h


	2. Prince The Ripper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Fratricide.

Belphegor is born a prince, just a step away from being at the top of the world. It's lucky the world chose to make it that way. Who knows the length he would have gone to find a crown for himself if he was born without it. (Royalty is in his blood, is the very core of who he is, Bel doesn't need a crown. But it's a useful accessory for everyone else to know who they're dealing with.)

Belphegor is born a prince, and it makes him better than everyone else. _Everything_ about him and about his life is better than everyone else. They put his crown on top of his head when he is old enough to take care of it, and he just never takes it off.

Belphegor is born a prince, is born in luxury, and never misses of anything. Every last one of his desires, his wishes, his whims and his demands, his very _thoughts_ —he needs only to ask for them to become a reality.

Belphegor is _so incredibly_ ** _bored_**.

(That's how it truly starts.)

* * *

Rasiel, he has always thought, is an anomaly. The world which made a mistake. No one ever shared a throne after all, it's always has been one crown for one throne for one heir.

They're both very much aware of that.

"Anomaly" is too big a word for how Bel sees his older twin though. He is but a minor obstacle, a slight bump on the road to what's rightfully his.

Rasiel doesn't think any less of him.

He is a worthy opponent at least. He goes toe-to-toe with Bel in how he uses his intelligence for cheating, for foul plays and incapacitating him. He walks effortlessly the fine line of keeping their confrontations only as games for any onlookers, lest they intervene.

It happens randomly. Bel has a knife with him that day because they never said weapons were forbidden—not like it would have mattered even if they did. It's never about killing Rasiel either, really.

It's about the knife sinking into the flesh, the blood spilling from the wounds; about Rasiel screaming and struggling and weakening. It's about the mad rhythm of his heart and his even madder smile once he's done, about the blood _everywhere_.

It's the first steps of Prince The Ripper.

* * *

People will call Rasiel his first kill, and he'd have to snicker quietly. Rasiel was only the appetizer, the sparkles needed for him to realize he might love fires.

As it is Bel's first kill is more of a first _kills_. His older twin's blood on him is still wet and warm and intoxicating when the castle is filled with life for the last time.

He raids the kitchen's knives before leaving. They're the perfect size, stylish and of quality, with an irregular edge for maximum damage.

He turns them deadly all on his own; drowns them in blood all thanks to everyone else.

(Princes should never bleed, it's obvious to him. They're always the most precious person in the room, it'll be a show of weakness if not defiance.

Bel is a prince. Everyone else isn't.)

* * *

He's lazing around in the living room, fresh from wiping the streets of some more killers. The house he's in is the best so far, Bel is starting to get the hang of it. When he kills one of them they're too terrified to be interesting, but when he is lenient they're too rebellious, and he has to start looking for a new place to stay sooner.

The secret, he learned, is to maim them _just_ so.

A shark breaks in and lunges for his throat. Bel loses himself in the fight without a second thought. He almost loses a leg, ends up with three broken ribs and two sprained wrists, a sword against his neck.

"Voi, you're one fucking crazy brat," the shark says, like he should be the only one excited by the sight of blood. He has a large gash from his shoulder to his hip thanks to Bel, but it's not enough. The wound on his leg is still bleeding, and every last drop of a prince's blood should be repaid in kind and with interests. "Too crazy to bother cleaning behind yourself, or just too stupid? Maybe I should just kill you."

"Are you deaf? Don't scream in the Prince's face like that, you peasant." Bel tries to free himself from under the boy, but he is straddling him efficiently, not to mention their difference in sizes. He pushes against the sword but only manages to deepen the cut on his palm. He struggles harder.

"Cocky scums who can only bark only shorten their lifespan, that's your first lesson brat." The boy stands up, keeps a foot on his chest and his sword under his chin. "What do you say? Tired yet of your childish games?"

When Bel learns about the Varia, he has to laugh.

It sounds like it was made just for him.

* * *

The Varia's boss is sitting in his office in a throne-like chair, slouched and bored and his head resting on his fist. He looks like royalty, and Bel decides to hate him.

His Storm flames respond to the Sky flames flooding the room, in an unfamiliar way like they're trying to be in their best behavior, and he hates them more.

The Varia's boss raises an eyebrow. "Did that baby weakling make you lose your goddamn mind, trash? What need will I have of him?"

"Voi, like hell he did! Listen you shitty Boss, he has potential." Bel barely dodges the sword which would have cut his head in half. "See that? I can make him something worth it."

The boss doesn't look convinced. "How old are you?"

"What about you stand up and then I'll tell you. Only princes like me should sit in a throne, mister peasant." Bel walks closer to the desk, a knife in his hand. He is still suffering from his wounds because the peasant shark wouldn't let them find a Sun—"to toughen him up"—but it isn't going to stop him. "What about you let me stab you a little and then you can try to call me a weakling again."

The boss rises both his eyebrows. And then he laughs, a bark-like sound, loud and almost not condescending.

"Tell you what baby weakling, survive the shark first and then you can try not to die fighting me."

Bel's flames hum in contentment, thrill in apprehension.

* * *

The peasant shark is a genius on his own right, in his own way. Bel is a genius too, so he can tell.

The way he's moving, the way his _sword_ moves, his reaction's speed and reflexes and instinct. It all speaks of countless hours of training, countless battles too, of an unwavering dedication. Nothing the average people can pull off.

The peasant shark is overwhelming. He always backs Bel against a corner by getting too close, when he is not a close-range fighter and can't parry easily with his knives. He can't keep him away by throwing his knives either, let alone hits him with them.

Bel realizes his fighting style is too simplistic faced against an experienced fighter.

He adds wires to his knives because he's running out of them too quickly? and it's easier to get them back like that. He uses the wires to change his knives' trajectories because the shark dodges them too easily; then uses them as a weapon on its own when his knives still misses their target. He takes the habit of releasing a burst of Storm flames to clear the path for his knives when Rain flames always slow them down.

Finally, he comes up with a deadlier version of a cobweb using his wires because the shark is a fast one. He's a perceptive one too, so he turns to thinner but still sturdy wires which can fool the human's eye.

Bel needs a little more than a month. He can't pin Squalo in the same spot long enough to win before he memorizes the layout of his cobweb to know how to move and where to cut to free himself. He uses it at his advantage.

Squalo cuts some wires and in the same breath he gets rid of more on his own and sets up new ones. He moves past wires without looking back, and Bel changes their set up just enough to mess with him.

Squalo runs straight for him, on what he thinks is a wires-free path just like he wanted. They're simply loose at the moment lest he notices them too soon. Bel dives under his sword, rolls away from him, and Squalo only has the time to turn around before he stretches his wires. One of them is right against his jugular.

"Cocky scums who are too confident in their skills only shorten their lifespan, you peasant shark. It should be your lesson number two."

"Voi, watch it brat, I could get myself out of this if I wanted." Bel _tugs_ on his wires and Squalo's grins sharpenS. He knows he's right, but they also both know he didn't get caught on purpose.

(Bel will never give him his due credit for his fighting skills, and Squalo will never stop asking for it and assert it anyway.)

* * *

Xanxus is already in the training room, his jacket nowhere to be seen and holding both of his guns. Sky flames are rolling from him in waves and Bel lets them wash over him. He knows they don't take over the whole mansion because he doesn't let them.

He wonders how far they could go if he'd let them.

Bel almost gets his head blown up in the first seconds of the fight. A laugh bubbles up in his throat because _of course_ Xanxus wouldn't care about his young age. Bel bares his teeth in a wide smile and runs head on into the fight, the taste of his own blood at the back of his tongue.

He loses. Xanxus is looming over him, cut here and there but it's his clothes who took the more damage. It's frustrating, seeing how hard Bel is panting, how heavy his limbs are. He isn't getting up anytime soon.

Xanxus crouches next to him. "Not bad, baby weakling. But you better stick to your training sessions with Squalo if you don't want to die too soon."

"Ushishishi, the Prince can't die, don't you know? He needs to take down a shark and a hungry beast first."

Xanxus snorts. "You should start with weaker animals, trash. I can give you plenty of them. What do you say?"

Bel listens to Xanxus' plan with one ear only. He's more focused on how Sky flames simmer, how the heat in the room increases, drying his throat and lips.

Xanxus will go as far as he wants, he realizes. His flames will burn through anything that wish to stop him before he chooses to do so himself.

Bel doesn't want to ever find himself as one of his prey. Bel wouldn't mind the both of them hunting together. The path of destruction he'll leave in his wake is one he knows he'll thrive on.

When his Sky leaves the training room, Sky flames and Storm flames are indistinguishable from each other.

* * *

Squalo recruits some more people, and when Bel learns he doesn't try to kill them as their first contact he's having none of it. If he had to almost get killed as his first introduction to the Varia, he doesn't see why they shouldn't either—no matter some of them are _already_ in the Varia.

He takes the matter in his own hands.

Luss coos and fusses over him because of how "cute" he is, while still bleeding from his wound where Bel tried to cut his head off. He keeps the scar as a reminder of "Bel's affection".

Levi gets all angry and turns his harmless murder attempt into a full-blown death match. Bel goads him to chase him all over the mansion because it's funny, and it's even funnier when Levi is the only one to get headshot by Boss. He makes it a recurrent bonding time for the both of them.

Mammon just mists themself away or lets his attacks go through them. Bel notices though, how they redirect his attacks sometimes to someone nearby for whatever it is they did, or when he's outright tricked to do their dirty work for them.

Mammon finds themself a place on his shoulder, and when they're too bored or have some debts to collect, they make their way through the mansion together and Bel takes all the credit for the both of them.

* * *

Vongola headquarters are too easily broken through in his opinion, but then again it looks like they were waiting for them. It helps their case. Luss, Levi and him are meant to be a distraction, to take the brunt of the attack so Boss and Squalo can make their way to the Ninth.

The first few fools who only see a child running their way are easily taken care of. The ones warned about him thankfully last longer.

It's the most fun Bel ever had. The adrenaline running through his veins, the screams and noises of all the simultaneous battles. All the blood on him—some his, but a lot more not. All the blood on his knives—their silver color disappears under the red he keeps chasing without rest.

His Sky's bond is snuffed out. One second it's there, a bright inferno more burning than warm, and the next… It's physically painful.

Squalo's bond stays quiet, so he knows there's nothing they can do.

Mammon said they can't kill them too much to preserve their image after their coup, so he doesn't.

Bel _rips_ them apart. Cuts off limbs and damages vital organs. Lets them bleed and starts again.

Squalo's bond doesn't get vengeful. They can't do anything right now but Boss will be back. He'll be pleased to know Bel took out as many scums as he could while he could.

(His flames still trash in distress, swirl and howl and demand retribution.)

* * *

The Varia's Genius, they call him. With prodigious battle senses and battle skills. The Genius' Knife. Prince The Ripper.

Bel teaches the Varia not to call him any of these names. So much for a prince and a genius. If he truly was, Boss would be there to call him trash, to warn him not to play too long with his preys lest they learn how to bite back.

After their failed Coup, all he wants is to train until he lives up to his titles.

* * *

The Varia's Genius, they still call him eight years later. With prodigious battle senses and battle skills. The Genius' Knife.

 ** _Prince The Ripper_** — _he controls his Storm's Wind like a puppet master, catches his preys in it until he's done playing with them_ , _un_ _aware of_ _the_ _strings tied to their own body_ _until_ _he rips them apart._

_(He paints his Storm red with their blood, but better theirs than his.)_

* * *

When Bel reaches for the Storm Vongola Ring while half dead already, he knows what the others will think. It's his instinct taking over. It's his pride which won't let him lose.

It is. It's more.

Boss doesn't have need of any weakling, and there is only so much weakness he can forgive. They all have been much too weak once already, at the most crucial moment.

Bel looks at the two half of the Storm Ring and swears it won't happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- dont look too hard at the logistics of bel's and squalo's fight lol
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments. I hope you liked this new chapter. Any and all review are appreciated. Thank you for reading!
> 
> w_h


	3. Cerberus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of child abuse. Mention of parricide.

Levi is born tall and broad and scary, but he knows there are scarier things in the world. He knows there's danger you can't see coming, danger which seems harmless until the last moment, and it's the worst type of danger there is. His parents taught him that.

His parents despise him and he despises them in kind. They think he's the only one who deserves to be despised, and he thinks the same of them. What happens in their home stays in their home however, and Levi is _so_ angry when the rest of the world fails to see what is so obvious to him.

* * *

Levi is born in a rich neighborhood, and it's boring, and he doesn't want to even try to reach their unspoken ridiculous standards. He's deemed useless because of it, is pitied because they think he won't go far in life, but he has plans.

Levi wants to be a teacher. He's good in school but it's not about that. He's good at explaining things to others but it's not that either. Levi wants to be seen as someone who knows things, someone whose words are trustworthy.

(Then he could say "It's okay" and "It's not your fault" and "Do you need help?", and all the others words someone still has to say to him.)

Levi is born tall and broad and scary, and he's a stain among the others. He's born quiet, and the others think they can bother him because of it. But Levi isn't born harmless. The only people his voice leaves him in front of, the only people his body freezes in front of, are his parents and no one else. He gives back as good as he gets, and then some more.

* * *

It's maybe cliche, but he doesn't want to make it thanks to his parent's money. It's unrealistic too, he's smart enough to know that, so he resolves to try to need his parent's money as little as possible. He offers his help as a private tutor.

A girl in the next neighborhood becomes a regular of his. She's one year younger and has difficulties with English. She's nice, going with how little they talk with each other of things that matter, but they don't ever become friends.

She's always tense, looks only half focused on her homework, jerks at every noise. It's so intimately familiar, Levi considered turning his back on her and never coming back when they first met.

Levi knows it's her father because she is more relaxed when both her parents are in the house, doesn't look like she doesn't know how to breathe anymore when her mom is close. Or maybe it's just because she doesn't ever meet her father's eyes, or how she becomes limp under his touch and lets him move her like a doll.

(Fighting back always makes it worse, Levi knows it well too.)

It happens a few months after they met. Her mom isn't there, her father is drinking, and bruises peek out from her long sleeves dress.

He likes to think it was the bruises, and not the way her father looked at him, looking so much like his own father at the moment, but not enough his body went unresponsive.

Levi steals his bottle and smashes it on his head. The man goes down and he straddles him, his knees pressing on his arms. He punches, punches, punches. The man stops moving and he punches again, again, again.

At this very moment he is everything his parents always told him he could only be, and nothing ever felt better in his life than this.

* * *

There's no going back from that, Levi thinks, looking at his bloody hands, at the man dead at his feet. He doesn't know what "that" is yet, but it starts right there.

He could have been good, he could have. He tried hard everyday to not end up like his parents, to not end up nowhere near like his parents. But goodness is hard, demands an everyday effort, an uncompromising devotion to it.

Levi could have done that too. But letting go is _so much easier_. It's freeing, in a way goodness never made him feel. There's so much anger and bitterness inside him he wouldn't know where to fit goodness even if he wanted to. There's so much anger and bitterness inside him, he'll explode sooner than later if he keeps bottling them up.

Levi is good enough to not wish that on anyone.

* * *

He never goes back to her home, and the police never shows up at his house either. He doesn't question it.

The incident quiets down, and people start requesting his services again.

A boy taller than him opens the door, pouting and glaring at him like they usually do. Levi looks at his mom's sweet smile, her firm grip on her son's shoulder, the firm grip the son has on the door's knob, and he knows he's not there to help with homework. He comes in.

They don't always want him to kill them. They don't say it out loud when they do, but he can tell by himself.

He doesn't ask questions and it makes him more popular. It makes him more terrifying too, but he knows evil hasn't any genders, any minimum age, any change of heart which might not change again. Evil can be there even if no one else sees it, Levi knows that better than anyone.

(And even if it isn't, well. Levi has evil in him, and it doesn't care about such details.)

Levi doesn't ask questions and they don't ask questions in turn, and they all like it better that way.

* * *

He stops helping with homework, lest someone ends up drawing an unfortunate connection. The kids still come to him at school, sometimes asking for someone else, and the adults just wait for him at the gates. All in all, his business continues as usual.

He goes looking for his own targets too, to lose the trail. He tracks them down to have an idea of their schedule, follows them until they're alone in a secluded area. Sometimes he is just walking in the streets when an opportunity presents itself to him, and he never fails to take it.

There's no playing hero in that, or giving justice where it lacked, or whatever else those people who ask for him see him as, but it was never about that.

A boy stops him in the hallway at school one day. He holds himself like he believes in how important he thinks he is, like someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He is like everyone else Levi knows but at another level somehow.

He offers him to be part of something bigger, to use his skills for a good cause. Levi hears exactly what he means.

He wants him to be cannon fodder for someone else purposes, someone worthless too, if the boy is anything to go by, if Levi can trust his knowledge of the type of people he was around all his life. The said purposes must be of the same kind too, money or fame or power.

Levi refuses. He knows exactly where his path of his will lead him, and he'll go down only in the grave he would have dug all by himself.

(And maybe it's a bit pointless, and maybe it's a path which will never fulfill him, but better alone than in bad company.)

His refusal is taken badly. He gets followed by a car one day, and they think he isolated himself by running away without meaning to, but they're wrong.

He wouldn't have made it without the lightnings, but he has them, so he does. They spark around his fists, alongside his arms, shape his whole body, each time more bright than before, each time lasting longer.

Blood spills under his blows, bones crack and breaks like butter, skin burns and sizzles like he is a living lightning bolt. His fists' imprint are carved in their bodies once he's done.

This is what he's the best at. Something no one could ever take from him. No biased, no undermining, no cheating. The last one standing is simply the better one, and he'll make sure to always be the last one standing.

* * *

Varia recruits him one weak later. He opens the door one morning when his parents aren't there, and there the woman stands, in a black uniform and everything about her screaming danger.

She could kill him in a blink, but she's there to offer him a job where he could get better at killing too. Where he won't have to hide his lightnings anymore.

Two days later he's gone, leaving behind him his parents' dead bodies.

(It was long and ugly and merciless, and everything they deserved.)

* * *

Varia is a landmark of lone wolfs who won't think twice about sinking their fangs in his throat if they feel like it. It's up to Levi to not act like he's baring his neck.

He moves on from being the little runt of the pack quickly, by just being committed to his work. He always volunteers for the contracts, never slacks on on missions, always gives his reports the following day of his return.

He's not as quick and efficient as the others first, of course not, but he is a quick learner and there's little to clean behind himself from the very start.

Levi doesn't try to be friendly, but he shows his respect where its due. He lets himself be pushed around a little if he musts, but should they pushed too much and he'd have none of it.

His strength helps too. His build was never average, he always knew that, but as it turns out his flames weren't of average strength either. He learns to make good use of it.

* * *

He's coming back from a mission oversea, where he had quite the people to cross off of his hit list. He wants only to crash in his bed, but the hallways are empty, and he follows the commotion to the backyard.

The men are pressed up against the windows, cheering at what he suspects is a fight. Levi rolls his eyes and makes his way over. They could all be so dramatic for an elite assassination squad.

He doesn't recognize the two fighters. A Rain and—is that a Sky? Varia hadn't a Sky before he left.

"Tyr won't be happy."

"Tyr is dead," a man besides him says casually. Levi whips his head to look at him and the man laughs. "Yeah man, you missed a lot. Tyr was killed by this Rain Shark right there, can you believe it?" He can't, but the more he looks at the boy moving and holding his ground, the less it seems like a lie. "Guess who's our Boss now?"

Levi makes a face despite himself. He doesn't like reducing someone to their age, but to receive orders from a boy his age, no matter how strong he may be, no matter how he clearly won his place…

The man laughs again, leans his arm on his shoulder. "Nu-uh, not him. I don't know if it'll help because they're about the same age, but our new Boss is the Sky. Xanxus Di _Vongola_ no less, isn't that crazy?"

"You said it was the Rain who killed Tyr."

"He was. But it's Xanxus the Boss now. No one knows why."

Levi makes his way outside without another word. The waves of Sky and Rain flames crash against him and almost make him stagger. The mix of heat and coolness makes him a bit dizzy.

These guys are harmonized, but it doesn't explain much. Going by the little he saw of the Rain, by how his flames feel, he'd have cut clean off any bond which would express itself in such a way.

Levi loses himself in the fight, and doesn't notice when his eyes start tracking down the Sky's movements only. How ferocious his smile turns when he has the upper hand, the glint in his eyes when the Rain is on the offensive. How he runs head on to all the Rain's traps and faints, how he doesn't try to play it smart or subtle.

The air is dry and his skin itches, but Sky flames are unperturbed and almost casual in their display of violence. As if the world could burn to the ground or turn against them and they wouldn't even take notice of it.

A flash of green snaps him out of his trance. Lightnings sparkle at his fingertips, almost too quick for him to see, tingles making their way up his arms. His heart picks up its pace. Xanxus is his _Sky_ —

(—a Sky under which he wouldn't have to ever be afraid again.)

Sky flames wash over him, straight through his Lightning and continue their way. Xanxus doesn't react at all, doesn't spare him the briefest of glances. Levi's heart sinks in his stomach.

They aren't meant to be.

* * *

"What did you say?"

Levi keeps his head down where he's kneeling in front of the desk. "I, Levi A Than, am here to pledge my loyalty to you, Boss. To offer you my strength and my flames and everything else you might need, for whatever endeavor you'd want to pursuit."

Boss laughs, and it's nothing kind. A glass shatters against his head, pieces of glass nicking his scalp. The alcohol flattens his hair, slides down his neck.

He doesn't move.

"And what a weak trash like you can do that I can't?"

This isn't a challenge but Levi takes it as one anyway. They aren't meant to be, but what of it?

If Boss wants someone strong, then Levi will train and become stronger, so much so Boss couldn't deny him again.

* * *

He falls in steps with Squalo before he can leave the mansion for a mission. "Boss listens to your opinion, doesn't he? You're his first and only Guardian."

"And who the hell are you?"

"I'm sure you know of my intentions, but it doesn't matter if you don't." He moves to block his way. "Boss won't give me any more of his time if I don't convince you first."

Squalo's mechanized sword comes out from his prosthetic hand. "Voi, who said you could get on my way? Just spit it out before you regret it."

"When you come back from your mission—" Levi straightens up, looks him straight in the eyes "—start training with me."

As it turns out quickly, and as much as it hurts to admit it, there's an undeniable gap between Squalo and him. Levi shuts his hurt pride up and focuses at getting better.

He has a strong body, but it doesn't matter if he can't get close, so he works on his speed. He tends to blind himself with his single-minded focus to defeat his opponent, so he learns to watch out for that. He's too predictable, and it's a work in progress for now.

He keeps going on missions apart from his daily sparring sessions with Squalo. He looks into the inner workings of the Varia too, learns more about the logistics of the independent squad.

Boss gains a Storm and it only spurs him on harder. The Storm is a little shit, which is unfortunate, and is a genius who likes to prove his superiority over him, which is even worse.

He doesn't care about Levi's schedule at all but at least it's not a pure waste of time. If Levi is predictable, Bel is the very opposite, and if he doesn't adapt good enough there's no coming back from their deathly pranks-turned-sparring-sessions.

(Bel is arrogant in a way that'll cost him one day, no matter how right founded his arrogance is— _precisely_ because it's right founded. Levi saw it plenty of times before. Their fights are also a way for him to keep himself updated on Bel's progress, but no one else has to know that.)

* * *

It's two months later. Boss is there like Squalo said he would be, sat in his throne like chair in the backyard. Levi bows, then leaves the thought out of his mind to not be distracted from his upcoming fight.

He has four parabolas on his back, which Squalo of course knows about, but he trained his new technique with other Varia men he swore to secrecy.

It's hard to pin Squalo down in the same place for any amount of time, as usual, but a strong enough electric shock to his system makes the trick. Levi throws his parabolas, charges them with his Lightning, releases it.

It's not a direct hit. He knows his technique has openings still, and he's working on it. In the meantime Squalo's whole right side is useless now, and the crater in the floor is proof enough of his technique's potential.

Levi took damage of his own, and if it was a real death match they both would have push through them. But it's not, so he limps to Boss, kneels in front of him and waits.

"Not bad," Boss says and his heart misses a beat. "Or is it the shark who lost his touch?"

"What did you say?" Squalo screams in his back.

"Boss," Levi says, before they can start an argument. He raises his head and finds Boss' brown eyes. "Allow me to pledge my loyalty to you once again. And everything that comes with it."

There's a long moment of silence during which he almost loses his mind. But then Boss stands up and comes closer, and he's all Levi can see. "I don't need loyalty, but usefulness. Can you do that?"

Levi can do whatever Boss wants him to do.

His flames swell with happiness, much like his heart, febrile and impatient and he lets them. They reach eagerly for Sky flames half-consciously, and Boss lets them.

They aren't meant to be, but they're going to make it work anyway.

(If the lucky Lightning is out there, or any other Lightning who'd like to try their chance for that matter, Levi is coming for them. He won't have any of that.)

* * *

It's like someone is cutting clean off their bond and butchering it at the same time. It's just fast enough he can feel it happening, can try to cling to Sky flames in panic, but too fast it doesn't change anything.

His Sky's bond disappears, and it's such an unimaginable reality he can't process it at first.

Then comes the rage, the single-minded fury.

(Where was Squalo?)

He thought himself as a living lightning bolt once, and he becomes one at this instant. His Lightning armors him like a second skin, seeps deep in his bones, in his every cell.

Levi's blows turns devastating. Static electricity is all around him, and he needs only a thought to set it ablaze in a deadly green.

(Where was _he_?)

He doesn't hear himself screaming for his Boss, doesn't hear the scream of the people blocking his way. He doesn't feel Lussuria and Mammon trying to reach out either.

Ganauche himself has to step in, and he struggles all the way to submission. The last thing Levi remembers is his Boss' name at his lips and still no answer.

( _Where was **he**?_)

* * *

Levi wakes up in his bed, in his room back at the Varia mansion, and he has to wonder how something like that can still happen. What is the point of him waking up?

Everything is pointless now. Levi's world lost all meaning now his Sky is gone—now he _let him down_ —and he doesn't deserve to wake up anymore.

A sword sinks in his pillow, and he was almost too slow. He jumps on his feet on reflex alone.

"How fucking much more time did you plan to lie down?" Squalo says. "Better not let Boss ever know about how pathetic you're being right now."

Levi grits his teeth. "Don't."

"He's alive."

" _Don't you joke about that_ , Squalo." Squalo's eyes flash a bright blue, his teeth bared, and he knows it to be the truth then. Levi inhales sharply, and wonders if it's the floor or him who's shaking.

Squalo's flames recede, and the air is breathable again. "You'd have known if you weren't so busy throwing a pity party for yourself. Just come meet us in the office already." He slams the door behind him.

Levi retreats in himself, and has to go deep, _deep_ down to even feel a fluttering flicker of his Sky's flames. But at least it's there. If he stops focusing all his mind on it he can't feel it anymore, but it's there.

 _It's there_.

Levi retreats in himself, dives deep in his mind and realizes what a mess they are. Bel's flames are frantic, Lussuria's uncharacteristically subdued, and Mammon's are even more distant than the first time they met. Squalo's flames feel jumpy, in the most dangerous of way.

Levi takes a deep breath and exhales. He has to be the Lightning he's supposed to be now more than ever. He is supposed to be the more resilient of them all, the shield which protects them.

He'll be the solid rock under their feet they need to bounce back from this failure.

* * *

Squalo is busy dealing with the fallout of their Coup, as well as Mammon somehow, and it's fall on him to keep the Varia up and running. He doesn't mind. Someone has to, for when Boss will be back.

They must remain as strong as ever and ready to act at a moment notice, because Levi knows they'll try again.

He takes the opportunity to sort out their men—it's more like a purge, really. Someone sold them out, and it's not sure if he is Varia or something else, but it might give others idea. He gets out all of their files again, demands those of the recruits to pass by him first, searches for threats even beyond the Varia.

It keeps his mind away from more unpleasant thoughts, and makes him feel useful in a way training can't.

* * *

Cerberus. Levi doesn't know where the title came from, but it sounds like something Bel would come up with, and like something Mammon would be more than happy to spread. He processes the information and dismisses it in the same breath.

He is only doing his duty, and they can give whatever name to it they see fit.

 _Cerberus_ _—he hunts down the traitors' blood without rest, is only one man but is strong like many. He strikes his enemies down before they can act, strikes his enemies down before they can even think to become his enemies_.

( ** _Cerberus_** , they'd say once Xanxus would be back. _He mercilessly rips his enemies' throats out with his fangs, but better his than those of the one he uses his fangs for_.)

* * *

Boss smiles. Boss _laughs_. It isn't thanks to either of them, and god knows they tried, but it doesn't matter why or how or who. It's been eight long years after all.

Levi offers the Lightning Vongola Ring to his Boss, filled with shame, and of course he doesn't want it. Levi himself doesn't feel like he deserves it, but it isn't about deserve, it's never about deserve in their world.

The Lightning Vongola Ring was needed all the same, so he did what he had to do to won it. Who cares about shame or anything else. Levi has to do whatever he'll need to do until the day he dies to never let down his Sky again.

(Levi will kill himself before allowing that to ever happen again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this came out with more feeling than i would have thought, but i like it. I'm pleasently surprised with this chapter really  
> \- i just really like the headcanon of harmony being like destined soulmates you know? But also i have this maybe contradictory headcanon that it's definitely about free will too
> 
> Whelp, here is Levi's chapter. There's not much about him in canon, and i don't read much about him at all in fanfic, so i have no idea how good i did. But i do like how it came out, like i said.
> 
> I hope you liked this new chapter. Thanks for the kudos and comments. Any and all review are appreciated. Thank you for reading!
> 
> w_h


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